


Bury your Dead (lest the ghosts haunt you)

by Maimaktês (0o_Higanbana_o0)



Series: Southern Solace [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy centric, Bellarke is my endgame, F/M, Gen, It's about Bellamy dealing with life 'n shit after Clarke leaves, and grim realities, angst kinda, but it's not the focus of this story, but mostly character introspection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0o_Higanbana_o0/pseuds/Maimakt%C3%AAs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy goes back to Mt Weather the day after.<br/>The dead need burying, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury your Dead (lest the ghosts haunt you)

**Author's Note:**

> _Hide yo kids, hide yo wives_ , Mai’s back again with bucketloads of angst and pain.  
> All credit goes to [Montygreen4prez ](http://montygreen4prez.tumblr.com), my awesome beta. I’m nothing without her.

 

 

Bury your Dead (lest the Ghosts haunt you)

Part 1/3

 

 

Bellamy goes back to Mt Weather the day after.

The dead need burying, after all.

 

_He’d slept most of the first day off. He didn’t think he’d be able to rest, not after pushing the lever, not after Clarke leaving. But he’d severely underestimated the level of exhaustion he’d reached and his body’s need to crash for a while._

_So he slept, but awoke in the middle of the night and knew right away he had to go back and bury them, or he’d never be able to sleep again._

_He wasn’t alone._

_He didn’t ask for help, but Monty, Miller and Harper showed up anyway. Sergeant Miller tagged along, never letting his son out of his sight._

_Octavia had come to see him as he packed his bag, to tell him she and Lincoln would not be coming. It was not safe for Lincoln to leave Camp Jaha, now that he was an official pariah of Trikru. His former comrades would shoot him on sight._

_Bellamy didn’t mind. He’d rather gone alone and known his sister was safe._

_Jasper had come too, even though he stayed a few yards away from the main group, shoulders hunched, his fists balled in his jean pockets._

_“Are you sure you want to come?” Bellamy had asked before leaving, trying to spare the boy further pain. “You don’t have to go. I’ll do it. I’ll give her a decent burial, you have my word.”_

_The boy had gulped and shaken his head. “I need to do this, Bellamy.”_

_Bellamy understood._

_Monroe was the last to join them, a sullen frown etched on her brow._

_“Sorry, I had to haggle for 20 minutes with Akela over at the armory, just to get a new gun. The Mountain men thrashed mine when they caught us.”_

_They left long before dawn and spent the start of their journey in darkness and silence. They didn’t dawdle, but it was still past noon when they reached Mt Weather’s gate._

 

*

 

 

There is a funeral chamber inside Mt Weather with a fully functioning crematory, but Bellamy doesn’t have the heart to inflict more burning on the tortured bodies. They will be buried outside, in the earth they longed so much for.

 

Jasper buries Maya.

He insists on digging the grave alone and glares daggers at anyone who tries to offer help. He jumps down in the hole and hugs Maya’s body close to his chest as he gently lowers her to the ground. He fills the grave with crumbly, wet clods of earth, and doesn’t leave for the rest of the day. He just sits there, hugging his knees and staring blankly at the freshly turned soil. No one bothers him, and Bellamy only approaches to drop his own jacket over the boy’s shoulders. The days are getting colder, and the pale winter sun doesn’t reach the ground under the canopy.

 

Bellamy doesn’t need his jacket as grave-digging is a highly demanding activity. Even though his breath turns to white clouds in the chilly November air, his shirt is soon drenched with sweat.

 

He welcomes the mind-numbing work. He needs his arms and shoulders to burn with exertion; he needs the sweat to run into his eyes and blind him.

He buries the little kids.

No one else has the heart to.

 

Soon, night falls and they have to stop digging.

They all huddle just behind the great door, not daring to go deeper inside Mt Weather. Sleep eludes them and long hours are spent staring at the ceiling, at the walls, and at their own shoes. At anything but each other.

 

Bellamy is lost in his thoughts. Search as he might, he did not find Emerson’s body, today. Lincoln had told him he’d killed Cage, but the Grounder had not mentioned Emerson at all. Did the lieutenant just up and leave, like Cage did? Or is he still hiding out there, somewhere? Bidding his time, waiting to take his revenge?

How could he not? They killed everything the man knew and loved. In his place, Bellamy would be feeling rather vengeful, too.

The thought goes round and round in his head, keeping him awake for hours.

 

When he finally slides in a fitful sleep, his slumber is nothing but a string of nightmares. He dreams of little children burying him alive. He dreams of Clarke slowly strangling him with her hair, almost lovingly.

 

He dreams of Clarke a lot.

In his dreams, she leaves him too. She always kisses him goodbye, but never in the same place. This night, it’s on his cold, clammy brow that he feels the ghost-like warmth of her lips.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t feel rested at all.

 

As the sun rises, they grab their shovels again and get back to work.

 

At noon, an unexpected team of technicians shows up.

Sinclair is leading them. Bellamy pauses as they approach, drives the shovel into the soft ground and rests his weight on the handle. Jackson is there too, shuffling his feet and avoiding Bellamy's stare.

 

“We’re here to assess what can be salvaged”, Sinclair informs him. “We can’t afford to overlook medical supplies or food. It’ll be winter soon, and we have little kids and sick people at the Camp.”

Bellamy nods, his lips tight. “To the victor, the spoils,” he mutters, teeth clenched.

He goes back to digging with a renewed vigor.

 

He and Nathan are shoveling earth back into the last grave when Jackson comes running toward them, pointing agitatedly toward Mt Weather.

“Bellamy, you need to see this! Come with me!”

 

The first level is a true Ali Baba cavern for starving men.

The walls of the corridor leading to the first room are lined with canned food, bags of grains and flour, pasta, rice, huge casks of water. How many trips will they need to drag all this to Camp Jaha, Bellamy wonders idly. Two men are heaving rice bags on a trolley, grunting under the weight of their bounty.

 

The methodical sack of Mt Weather is under way. Will it last for 17 days, like Carthage’s?

 

The first room (it’s more of a hangar, really) holds rows and rows of plants on hydroponic culture. An engineer from Agro is running around excitedly, casting her torchlight at the rows of already wilting vegetables.

“I can’t believe it! They have tomatoes! And pears! Coffee, and cocoa too!” she’s almost babbling in her excitement. “We have to get the electricity back up, we can’t lose all those! It’s a real treasure!”

 

Jackson doesn’t stop to listen to her, he’s already reached the hangar’s end and motions at Bellamy with his own torch. “Quick, this way!”

Bellamy has to jog through the rows of sweet peas and corn to catch up to him.

“You won’t believe it, man.”

 

The next room is warm, filled with a musky smell Bellamy doesn’t recognize. He can see things moving in the dark, and when a deep bellow shatters the silence his hand automatically reaches for the hatchet at his waist.

 

“Don’t worry,” says Sinclair, stepping into the torchlight, “it’s just Betty calling for her little one.”

“Betty?”

“A cow.”

“They have live animals in here!” Jackson explains animatedly, worlds tumbling out of his mouth in an excited rush. “Some died with the radiation, but most survived! They have cows, you just heard Betty. And chicken, and goats! They have some pigs too. I’m afraid all the sheep died, though. But they have Cashmere goats and-”

“Had,” Bellamy interrupts softly.

“What?”

“They _had_ goats. And cows, and whatnot. The Mountain men are not alive anymore.”

 

The young medic stands there for a second, mouth open, gasping for words.

Before anything can come out, Sinclair hands the boy a bucket of grain.

“Go help Shawn feed the goats, the poor things are starved. Get them some fresh water, too.”

 

When Jackson is gone, the grizzled man looks at Bellamy and purses his lips.

“We need to go back to camp and bring back engineers and mechanics to get the electricity back up. We can’t afford to let all this go to waste.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Bellamy runs a hand across his brow. He can feel a headache coming. “You’ll have to convince Wick to come, though, and good luck with that. He won’t leave Raven’s side.”

“Bellamy, there’s so much in here. You haven’t seen the med bay, it’s everything we need. Sure, most of the material is a bit old fashioned, but it’s all in working order. Bellamy,” Sinclair pauses and seems to age a few years under Bellamy’s watchful eyes. “They have clothes. Warm clothes, for the winter. Back at camp, we barely have enough to go by right now, and it’s not even winter yet. We can’t face winter in our current state, people will die.”

 

Bellamy scrunches up his nose, but nods. What else can he do? He’s got enough death on his conscience, there’s no room for more.

 

They move back to camp that afternoon. The people from Sinclair’s team are talking excitedly about the treasures of Mt Weather, but the grave diggers remain locked in a sullen silence. Teeth are gritted and jaws tighten, as the detailed and enthusiastic planning of Mt Weather’s plunder takes place.

 

 _No,_ Bellamy thinks, _it won’t even take 17 days._

 

The more people talk about Mt Weather, the deeper Miller and Monty’s frown’s get. Even Miller’s dad seems disgruntled by the whole prospect. Jasper is the only one not paying attention at all. The boy seems kind of lost, he hasn’t said of word for the past two days.

 

They’re barely an hour away from camp when an arrow whistles past Bellamy’s ear and embeds itself in the tree just behind him.

“Down! Everybody down!” he bellows as he hits the ground, gun at the ready. “Miller, to me! Everybody, stay still!”

 

A woman’s laugh drifts from above as Nathan shuffles his way toward him, propelled by his knees and his elbows.

“Know that I never miss, Belomi kom Skaikru. This was only to get your attention.”

 

Bellamy knows that voice. _The Grounder from the cages._

“Show yourself.”

 

“No, I’d rather not. I have a message for you. The alliance between Trikru and Skaikru doesn’t stand anymore, Sky people.”

“What?” Bellamy scrambles to his feet, in his indignation. Miller is tugging at the material of his pants, but Bellamy shakes him off. “Clarke made a deal with your commander! We have a peace!”

“We _had_ a peace, now the deal is over. A new deal was made with the Mountain men, and we will respect it. We will not go near Mt Weather. But _your_ camp, now… is on Trikru territory, and you are intruders.”

“Can’t we at least talk about it?”

“No.” The Grounder’s voice sounds reluctant, almost sad. “You have to leave, soon. Before the raids begin.”

“How long do we have?”

The wind is picking up, whistling through the trees, and Bellamy has to concentrate to catch her answer.

“A half-moon. Maybe less.”

_Less than two weeks?_ Bellamy drops his gun in defeat and reaches for the tree to steady himself. He’s getting light-headed again. He just wants a fucking break, is that so much to ask?

 

He doesn’t understand. “Why are you telling me this?”

There’s a long silence before the woman speaks again, her voice much closer, almost a whisper in Bellamy’s ear.

“You held your promise. And I, Echo kom Trikru, did not. I now owe you three favors. Consider this as the first one.”

Bellamy twists his head around, desperate to locate her, to corner her, to ask all the questions clogging his brain. The world is a sea of brown, dead leaves, tree bark, dark earth and the more he strains his eyes, the less he seems to see. She must be close, though. So close.

 

“Echo?” he asks softly, voice drowned by the rising wind.

“When you need the second favor, leave a red cloth by the bridge your people destroyed last month. I will come to find you. Remember, Belomi. Only the deal with the Mountain men will be honored.”

 

Bellamy stays unmoving for a long time, staring at the dead leaves littering the ground. Miller has to shake his shoulder to snap him out of it.

“What do we do?” Nathan has the same patient look as ever, and that gives Bellamy the strength to shake himself out of the self-pity torpor he’d begun to settle in. Jackson looks white as sheet, and the woman from Agro (Tara? Sara?) is shivering with fear.

 

Bellamy bends to retrieve his gun, lying on the ground, and cocks it as his jaw tightens.

 

“We get back to camp, post haste. Monty, as soon as we’re back, can you tell Wick and Raven I need to talk to them? Harper, you’ll fetch the other 44 and lead them to the conference room. Monroe, you’ll have to look for Lincoln and my sister. Hopefully, they’re still holed up in my sister’s tent.”

 

Oh, so Trikru made a deal with the Mountain men, and it’s the only one they’re willing to respect? If they want Mountain men, he’ll give them Mountain men, alright.

 

But first, he needs to talk with the others.

 

 

***

 

 

_Bonus track_

 

Somewhere not quite far away, a mere dozen miles East as the crow flies, another kind of story is slowly unfolding.

 

John Murphy, having spent two days binge-watching all the videos left by the lighthouse previous owner (including the one detailing the operating mode of the A.I. and the location of the central unit) set to work.

 

Gentle reader, watch in awe as our unlikely hero sneaks into the huge white mansion, neatly clocks a raving Thelonius Jaha across the head with a nice bottle of Château LaPompe 2024 (Murphy pondered about the real usefulness of such a sacrifice, but it turns out it’s _really_ worth it because _that_ finally shuts Jaha up) and superbly ignores the siren calls of the lady in red. (She calls him Jonathan. He _hates_ being called Jonathan.)

Map in hand (thank you, crazy billionaire loner!) he pads down the carpeted corridors, heading straight for the central unit and avoiding all the booby-traps. Once he’s reached his destination, he digs up the System 32 (Ha, old computers...) and promptly deletes A.L.I.E. with the press of one key.

 

He then saunters back to his lair, grabs a cigar and climbs the stairs to the top of the lighthouse with a self-satisfied smirk.

 

“Today,” he yells with all the strength of his smoke-irritated lungs at the rising sun, “I cancelled the apocalypse!”

 

 

But that, gentle reader, is a story for another time…

 

***

 

Author's note: Oh, yeah, I don’t care much about that whole A.L.I.E storyline. I have bigger plans for Murphy. ~~They involve a pirate ship and an eye-patch.~~

This actually the first story of a 4 part series and the good news is, the 4th story is my 100 Big Bang, SO THIS SERIES WILL BE FINISHED.

Series title: Southern Solace (4 works)

1/ Bury your Dead (lest the ghosts haunt you) _Angst-ish, Bellamy centric_

2/ Coma Clarkes (bringer of victories) _Fluff, Bellarke_

3/ Blind (none so, as those who won’t see) _Fluff, Bellarke_

4/ Of Blood oranges (and their cloying sourness on your tongue) _Angst, Bellarke. (Also, pirates)_

 

I’m [Maimaktes ](http://maimaktes.tumblr.com)on Tumblr, drop by to say hi!


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